Purity
by Beaumren Trill
Summary: A corrupt core? He was anything /but/ corrupt. His hatred... his anger was pure.     And that was the last thing they would know.


**Trill: **I don't own portal 1 or 2, yadda yadda yadda.  
>I know it all looks a little sloppy and unorganized. He is an anger core- he isn't neat and organized.<br>I have grown fond of this idea, though, of the Cores in Droid bodies. To get this freedom, though, they had to go through a collecting interface of knowledge while hooked up to GLaDOS. It changed them all, in some way or other. Some show it more than others, and not at all. Anger is just... one of those iffy ones.  
>-pets- I just feel so bad for the thing. So angry and nubby.<p>

* * *

><p>His body arched off the ground, clawed finger tips (He was the of the one of the core-driods with drill bit fingers) scraping against the floor and walls as he contorted and writhed. It was hot, intense, and it was coursing through him. Ever since the intelligence share across the board when they all hooked up to GLaDOS.. he was more than mindless emotion.<p>

He was thought, he was calculations, he was intrigued... he was something closer to corrupt. These flashes of intense heat and... (it isn't pain. The feeling doesn't have a name. It is simply a stimulation which has no definition at this point)... These flashes. They come suddenly. Ever since the body transfers, they get all of their shared data wirelessly. The problem with not being a processor, it makes him useless.

It gives him time to _think_ - something he regained from Morality and Intelligence- but it does not give him time to _act_. He is not allowed to test. The subjects would die, and not necessarily by the bullets of a turret.

Sharpened alloy teeth grind, and his jaw sets in place as he strains against these invisible emotions and sensations that have no name. It hurts, but it is not painful to him. And even though he can now process, he has nowhere near the capabilities of the others. Space and Curiosity have more assessing and sorting power than he does, but they cannot feel like he can.

He can _feel_.

These flashes are always randomly triggered. When he used to be Personality Sphere 4CR1 (He thinks the numbers and letters remind him of a name, long forgotten), he was an emotional being. He was a socialist. ... He was confined. He was stored away in solitary confinement.

You would think confinement only lasted a few days. No. Not when there is a failure in the typically used cryogenic storage chambers. A failure which was never new personality spheres sleep, they sleep, dream, and develop. Not Anger (what was his name before?), oooh no. He was awake.

For centuries, it felt, he had no stimulation. No light, no sound, no anything. He talked to himself at first. Talks turned into arguments, and arguments turned into unintelligible grunts and growls. Excitement turned to boredom- turned to insanity.

And when he was taken out of the broken cryogenic unit... he was angry. Long had he forgotten how to express himself. He no longer knew how to express gratitude, for being released; joy, for seeing the light of day again, no matter how artificial; or sorrow, with which to pity himself- for the sad excuse of an existence he had become.

All he knew was that he was angry- the who, when, and why did not matter- and he needed to let the world know he was angry.

The flash finally subsided. Deep gashes were left in the wall, some wires damaged during the transition from flat metal to bent. His collapsing and expanding air filters were in over drive, leaving him gasping for breath as he stared at the ceiling, face contorted into an "I-don't-know-what-to-feel" expression. These flashes always left him... longing.

After a few moments, he forced himself up, and stumbled down the hall, posture bad as ever, and a sound ripping from his throat. It was not a usual snarl, hiss, chatter, or growl... it was a whine. He felt abandoned. He felt alone.

As soon as he felt that, though, searing white anger passed through him. They had ditched him, forgot him. THEY LEFT HIM THERE TO ROT.

His frame shook, steps unsteady, as a series of grunts and growls found their way out of his mouth.

A corrupt core? He was anything _but_ corrupt. His hatred... his anger was pure.

And that was the last thing they would know.


End file.
